flesh in disguise

There's a well, inside, where thought goes to fuel the fire of inspiration, burning of its own accord.

Clematis, not clamadis, I got quite a few hits from searches on the word 'clamadis'. A common misspelling no doubt.


Another nucleus beckons with extended fingers to draw the eye inside where the detail takes place.


Abstract anomaly appears on the side where the wrinkles decided they didn't want to go.


Designed for flight and aligned just right to sharpen the points before green.

With one finger on the pulse of the moment the situation tried to find meaning and purpose behind the direction of the lines.


Minds captured by thoughts displayed as reflections only available from the shadow of the tree


Temperatures rise as the flesh in disguise makes an impression on the section of mind concerned with reproducing some kind of physical connection.


The empty store before the fear takes hold and transforms the space to a place to tread lightly.


Those who will be the undead.